01x04 - Soul-Crushing-Cycle

[bunniefuu]

Good morning, ladies of Ridge Heights,

any oil rig workers, mountain Sherpas,

or International Space Station listeners

who might have survived the Pocko, too.

It's been 44 days since the waters rose,

and, not to brag,

but we're kind of k*lling it.

Not that I'm surprised.

If you've ever been

to a hens' party weekend at a beach house

with a 10:00 a.m. checkout,

then you know that women get sh*t done.

Everyone knows that the key

to a successful hens' weekend

is the maid of honour,

and Saskia Vanderbeek

is that woman for us.

What do we say? Ride or die!

Ride or die!

- Ride or die!

- Ride or die!

Ride or die!

Is she a pain in the ass?

Yes, she is.

But would you want her job? f*ck, no.

Because without that woman,

we don't get the cheese plates,

or the table with the view,

or the matching monogrammed robes

that you never wear again,

but you still have to pay for.

Mooncup's on loan, folks.

But she always bleeds long.

And thanks to her insistence

on excessive exercise, limited rations,

and immaculate personal grooming,

we've kind of never looked better.

Come on, faster. Harder!

We're riding to radio for rescue! Come on!

Go! Go!

Go!

I know, I know.

It's like, who cares, you know?

No one's checking us out.

But, somehow, our hair has become

the last vestige of our normality.

And we are not f*cking letting it go.

And that's our show for today, folks.

If anyone is out there listening,

please drop us a rescue boat anytime.

We're at 34.4100 degrees south

and 150.3037 degrees east.

Over and out, folks.

You're late.

It's definitely live.

You know that you could just plug it in

to see if it works, right?

Yeah, I could, but this is more fun.

Do you know

I don't know which w*nk*r

English teacher it was

that managed to convince the library

to buy The Wire

as an educational tool for teenage girls,

but I thank them. Mmm.

Where'd you get those?

Garrity's desk.

Fucker sure had his favourites.

Yeah. I'm sorry no one ever saw

any potential in you, Phoebe,

but are we done here?

That depends, Sas.

Is Sandy still dead?

I hope not.

'Cause 44 days and counting,

I'd say she's, like, super dead.

You know who else is super dead?

Stringer Bell, in season three.

Happy viewing.

f*ck, Sas! No! You

Not Stringer Bell. f*cking hell!

Oh, my God

Are you all right?

Administering her medical flap.

Still alive.

Ripped off.

Oh, man.

Okay, Unmemorable Lauren is fine.

Get back on your bikes.

Is she kidding?

Come on.

- Saskia, you can't be serious.

- Or do you want to be stuck here forever?

Because that's what'll happen

if we don't send out a radio signal

every single day.

No riding, no radio, no rescue.

- But

- Back on your bikes!

Okay. This is dangerous now, Saskia.

We are k*lling ourselves

charging batteries, and for what?

So we can crowd around one laptop

and watch season four of 7th Heaven?

That's the season where the blond brother

with the big eyebrows gets hot.

Okay, okay. Simon's off limits.

But, Saskia, we don't need

to waste literal energy

with the straighteners

and the curling thingos.

Radio signals and protein and rest

should be our priorities.

Having a neat head of hair

is the equivalent of working from home

and making your bed every day.

It sets a standard.

What about this f*cking standard?

She's breathing, isn't she?

You know, for someone who dedicated

their life to menstrual equity,

your internalised misogyny is showing,

girl boss.

- Ooh!

- Burn.

Oh, I don't hate women, Pepé.

I just hate you.

And the next time I see you,

there will not be a single strand of hair

out of place on your head.

Do we understand each other?

Now pick her up.

Okay, guys, what do we say?

Ride or die!

Ride or die.

Ride or

Die.

Die!

There is a part

of my head that's like,

so you just watched a woman collapse,

and you felt nothing.

And that's not normal, you should feel

awful, crippled with guilt, like

But then I can also

hear his voice in my ear,

and he's

He's saying, "No, actually,

you made the right call.

If you stop riding,

then you stop surviving."

And

I mean, I've heard him

like that for years.

Like when Blue Bloods first IPO'd,

the first thing I thought was

"Oh, my God, Ryan"

"Ryan would be so proud of me."

And I don't really know what to do

with that because I don't

I guess I don't understand how

the person who f*cked you up so badly,

um, could also be the voice

of encouragement that you need to go on.

You know?

Sorry, it's embarrassing.

I thought I'd figured this all out

with my actual therapist years ago,

but clearly not.

Hey, Sas?

This room was f*cking filthy.

Oh, my goodness,

you are busy with something.

- I'll come back.

- No, I'm not.

Sas, you're mopping the carpet.

What do you want, Teresa?

I just wanted to check on you,

see how you're feeling

because, you know,

you went pretty hard on Pepé earlier.

And?

And, um

I don't know, maybe she's right.

We have been riding really hard

and we're not eating enough to sustain it.

Yeah. Yeah, you're right.

Because she's not wrong.

- We do need protein.

- Yeah.

And you're the one

who's in charge of the food.

So, where the f*ck is it?

Yeah.

You're right.

I'll get on that.

Sas, you know that

you can talk to me, right?

About anything.

I just did, so

I'm so sorry.

Phoebs, could we get some lay-by?

Our jelly legs need some credit.

Ah, thank God.

Hey, Renee, can you, um

Can you find out what she's doing?

Can't you just talk

to each other already?

Uh, no, that's not how fights work, Renee.

Can you at least just, like, suss out

what she needs all the batteries for?

Powering a freaking jet ski or something?

I just, I don't think

it's any of my business.

You're right, Renee. It's not.

And can you please inform Zoe

that it's none of hers either?

- Amelia says that it's none of your

- Renee, can you please tell Amelia

that, as SRC rep, the welfare of

the entire class is in fact my business?

- Um, yep, sure. Uh

- Renee,

please tell Zoe to move on already

and find someone else to obsess over.

- Yep.

- Move on? Don't flatter yourself, mate.

I've got options galore.

Oi, Fuzzy Laura, wanna bond?

No, I'm good.

Renee, can you please tell Amelia

that Forgettable Laura

doesn't count, obviously?

She

Real friggin' mature, guys.

- Sudafed?

- Mm-mm.

- Cough syrup?

- No.

Nutmeg?

- No.

- What?

- Not even nutmeg?

- Not even nutmeg.

Um, the only thing that I have

that might f*ck you up

is Prolexoft or the contraceptive pill.

Fine. Happy pills, it is.

Whoa, whoa, hey, um, just so you know,

antidepressants won't get you high.

Yeah, it takes weeks for Prolexoft

to alter your brain chemistry.

- Apparently.

- We're not f*cking amateurs.

Yeah. Obviously, we're going to cut it

with some bath cleaner,

maybe a splash of dandruff shampoo,

a dollop of craft adhesive

for good measure and

Bam!

A Pocko loco, baby.

Sick.

Or how about we

Or how about you just get over yourself

and make up with Zoe,

so you don't need antidepressants.

- Yeah, that's not how depression works.

- Oh, hurry up.

Time is batteries, people.

Megan, Megan,

who lent you that hoodie when Kim Shiner

put a chocolate Paddle Pop on your chair

- and you look like you shat yourself?

- This bitch.

- How could you bring that up right now?

- Yeah.

After all these years,

you're going to cash it now?

Fine.

Risk the blood clots

and take the old boring pill.

- Thank you for your custom.

- Junkie.

- Prolexoft.

- It's three batts a box now.

- Wait, what? Why?

- You saw them. Supply and demand, baby.

Come on, Phoebe.

You can't just up the price.

Yes, I can.

It's all in the game, yeah.

It's all in the game

It's all in the game ♪

Get out, get out, get Next!

Tin bickies, what you doing?

Holy snapping duck sh*t!

What happened to your money-maker, mate?

I, uh I lost a fight with a possum

on the roof, trying to get dinner,

so now I'm onto seafood.

I never thought I'd get used to this view,

but here we are.

I know this is silly, but I still think

we're going to get rescued.

If we're here,

surely there's got to be others.

f*ck, yeah. We're not even

on the highest point of Australia,

let alone the world.

I'm sure Venice is probably f*cked,

but Brisbane? Nah!

Mark my words, tea towel.

The Brown Snake is still slithering on.

You know, you don't have to keep saying

that just because my embryos are there.

And Mitch! sh*t. I keep forgetting.

This is nice.

How come we've never

hung out like this before?

Saskia!

I'm worried about her, Zo.

Ah.

You stumbled upon the therapist?

Oh, my God, is that what that was?

Yep. Walked in on that sh*t

a couple of weeks ago.

She was pretending to do

karaoke into the mop.

"Runaway" by The Corrs.

Hmm.

I hate to agree with Genevieve,

but she's right.

Saskia's priorities are all out of whack.

- My turn next?

- Mmm.

What is the deal with Amelia?

I mean, what the f*ck is she

charging all those batteries for?

Whoa! Oh!

Motherfishcakes!

- No way!

- We caught a fish.

We caught a fish.

Wild-caught fish with a Vegemite glaze.

Come on!

Martha Stewart ain't got nothing

on our Teresa May.

She hunts, she gathers, she glazes.

She's going to make that possum her bitch,

eventually, aren't ya?

It's Teddy Bear Grylls, everyone.

Well done, Teresa.

Everybody, dig in.

You deserve it.

Deserve what? Salmonella?

Thirsty, chill.

That clearly ain't a salmon.

'Cause salmonella!

Ooh, yes.

It feels so good.

Well, it looks like sh*t. Can I have that?

Thank you.

Protein was actually Pepé's idea, guys.

So I think it's only fair she gets

the most nutrient-dense meat, don't you?

Can you serve her up the eyeballs, please?

- Saskia, you can't be serious.

- Do you want to eat the butthole?

Two eyeballs

with a Vegemite glaze.

You have a choice.

Go and fix your hair,

or eat the eyeballs.

Mmm.

Tastes like salty grapes.

Mmm.

Mmm.

I enjoyed that so much.

I think I'll have another one.

Oh!

- Oh, my God!

- Oh, someone help her.

Renee!

- Do something! Help her, Renee!

- Just do something!

Oh! Ew, ew!

You know you're not meant

to be here this late. Go.

Yeah, because in the

activewearian free market economic model,

post-industrial survival of the fittest

totally self-regulates.

No! What are you

I said go.

Looking tired there, Sas.

Whoa. She's live.

It's a filthy f*cking habit, Phoebe.

You know, Lucinda hated smoking, too.

Who?

Real pretty young little thing,

used to intern at my work.

Yeah, she hated smoking.

She couldn't even be near it.

She graduated from Ridge Heights

three years ago.

Poor little thing.

She was so f*cking taken in by Garrity,

she got his name tattooed on her rib cage.

Just "Ryan,"

in cursive, right here.

Apparently they only lasted six months

after she graduated

before the wife found out.

- Are you enjoying yourself?

- Yeah.

Thank you for asking, by the way.

Making the coolest girl in school

realise that she's not f*cking special?

Yeah, I enjoy it.

Thanks for the battery.

Six months? I just

He picked me up from Schoolies, and then,

three weeks later, he was done with me.

I've spent years working on this sh*t.

And now I'm jealous.

- Bike strike, bitch.

- What?

Until the hair sh*t goes,

I'm not riding.

Fine.

We don't need you.

Do you hear me?

You could choose to do nothing,

and that would be fine.

This class is going to be okay.

You will be shocked to realise

how inconsequential you really are.

But I'm not going to ask you again.

If you're not going to ride,

then you don't get to be a part of this.

Mean Girl 101, folks.

"You can't sit with us."

You can't.

No batteries, no food,

no bunk, no hot water.

You can shelter in a long-drop,

but other than that, you're on your own.

Sas, come on. That's too far.

Ooh!

Detention, Pocko-style.

What are you going to do, Saskia? Make me?

No.

But they will.

Because if you don't go

to a long-drop right now,

no one gets

their batteries tonight.

- What?

- Come on, Sas.

It's my turn with the electric toothbrush.

Genevieve, please, just ride okay?

Or go, or go wash your hair, I don't care.

But the rest of us are counting

on these batteries.

Come find me at the shitters

when you're all done being cowards.

Viva la bike strike!

Sas, come on

Pepé's a pain in the ass,

but you can't banish her.

And she's kind of got a point.

I mean, we could maybe

ride a little bit less

and do our hair

every other day, right, guys?

I'd like that.

This is very high maintenance.

Do you agree?

- Yeah.

- Okay.

- Because of everyone's little outburst

- What are you doing?

You don't get to cash in that battery

either way.

Saskia, that is not fair.

Don't f*cking forget

that I built all of this, okay?

If you want to sit in the dark

- No, no, no, no!

- and sh*t in the woods

like a bunch of f*cking pigs, be my guest.

But if all you're gonna do is sit around

and bitch about how good we have it,

I'm done f*cking around!

We need to get out of here

before Sas goes full Jonestown, so

Ta-dah!

You're going back to Brisvegas,

T-intersection.

What is it?

Um, it's a boat.

- Right.

- It's your boat.

All she needs now is a mast, matey.

You were always a shocker for regifting,

Zo-Zo.

- Oh, no

- Oh! No, no, no, it's fine.

I love it. Thank you. It's great.

Good. You deserve it.

Unlike Amelia.

I mean, apparently,

when you declare

that you're BFFs for life

all it really means is, like,

"Well, maybe I'll like your Insta pics

every two years or so."

Know what I mean?

Anyway, even if I wanted to make up

with her at this point,

she's too busy

charging her f*cking batteries

to power her gigantic vibrator?

Like, honestly, that's, it's the only

explanation there could possibly be.

Yeah, um, look, Zo

Every night at dinner,

I see Amelia take a little pill.

Megan and Tegan have been going on and on

about not being able

to get happy pills all day.

Okay, so

I think Amelia's on antidepressants.

Wait, what?

f*ck!

Ew.

It's bad. It's bad. It's bad.

It's bad, isn't it? It's bad.

It's okay, T. It's just a bruised nail.

But it is going to need surgery, okay?

Uh, this isn't dinner and a show.

Get out of here!

Go!

Hey.

I am not going to leave your side,

tea cozy.

Don't you worry about that.

No, no. You should definitely go.

And you should make up with Amelia before

you take someone's eye out or something.

Oh. Okay. Yeah, for sure.

Oh, sh*t, sorry.

Sorry, no, I just mean

You know, you can't just expect

to replace her.

Yep.

- You can go.

- Yeah, I'm gonna go.

Renee, you have to stay.

You too, Phoebe.

Duh! M.D. coming at you.

- What?

- What have we got painkiller wise?

Not much.

Just use whatever you need to

to make it as painless as possible, okay?

Renee, have you got this?

Yeah, sure.

Yeah, of course I do.

Actually, no different to when I worked

for Médecins Sans Frontières.

It's the same, exact same conditions.

You know?

How many times I gotta tell you, Phoebe?

It's a filthy f*cking habit.

- Wait. So are we

- Just take it off.

You're different

to the other girls, Saskia.

Mature.

Don't hate me when I tell you

I'm going to have to mark you down

on your essay.

- But

- I know, I know, it's shitty.

We can't have people thinking

that I'm playing favourites.

Even if you are my favourite.

You understand that, don't you?

f*ck!

That's three batteries.

Prolexoft.

Um, you're going to need

two more batteries for that.

- What?

- Inflation due to medical emergencies.

I need those pills, Phoebe.

That is the only thing stopping me

from hurling myself into the sinkhole.

It's Pocko, babe. Everyone's depressed.

Yep, she's out. Go for it, mate.

Okay.

Um

Maybe

Just count me in.

No worries.

All right, one, two, three.

Weren't we just gonna

take the nail off?

Sas said, "Take it off."

- Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

- f*ck me.

I didn't mean to lie!

It just came out at the reunion.

Everyone was just so f*cking accomplished.

And Sandy! Oh, Sandy, when I told her

I was a nail technician,

she patted me on the head

and I just, I felt so totally inferior.

And I'm just, it just slipped out.

I said, "Oh, I'm a doctor," okay?

And, you know what, it felt really good.

But then the Pocko came,

and everyone was like,

"Thank f*ck we've got a doctor."

What was I gonna do then?

Tell them they're going to die

because they don't have

It's clear you're not a doctor!

But I haven't got any time

for your impostor bullshit.

There's a toe bleeding the f*ck out.

All right? So right now,

I need you to shut up

and burn sh*t out of this

so you can use it to cauterise that toe

until it smells like teppanyaki.

Mmm. Who's cooking a steak?

Hi, Teresa.

The surgery went very well.

The large left-foot phalange was removed

without any complications.

There may be a bit of residual pain,

- but other than that

- I'm sorry, uh

Did you just say "removed"?

That's correct. Our good doctor here

did exactly what she was instructed

to do by Saskia and took it off.

Uh

- I'll just

- Anyway, we must away.

That's not

Oh, my God.

You told them to cut off my toe?

- No, no.

- I thought it was just the nail.

It was. They misunderstood.

Why would you tell them to cut off my toe?

It wasn't even that bad.

They didn't have to cut off the whole toe.

What the hell, Saskia?

Hello?

You know what, Teresa?

I think you might be right.

I think I'm not really coping.

Oh, my God! What? What?

Yeah, it's just that, um,

all of this sh*t is coming up.

This, like, really f*cked-up sh*t

that happened to me while I was here.

- And I'm kind of just realising now

- You want to talk now?

Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry about your foot.

- I really am.

- Oh, why don't you go and talk

to your fake f*cking therapist,

you crazy f*cking bitch?

Uh-huh.

Dinner's due in an hour, Teresa.

And the women are expecting fish.

So if I were you, I'd chop-chop.

Or should I say, hop-hop?

So, this guy's, like, my favourite,

and he is such a sweetheart

and he is also really clever.

I didn't watch any TV growing up,

so this is like

Phoebe.

I just cut off a woman's toe.

Yeah.

And you covered for me.

Why?

Because I get it, Renee, you know?

I worked my ass off

to get into this school.

Like, I earned my academic honours.

And it means sh*t because these girls

still look down on you

if you're not the daughter

of some dickweed CEO.

You know? So, like, you want to tell us

that you're a doctor, then

f*ck them, you're a doctor.

So you got to own it, eh?

Like, in the words of Proposition Joe,

who you'll meet, actually,

um, "You've got to look the part

and be the part, m*therf*cker."

- What the f*cking f*ck?

- What kind of crap medicine was that?

- Misinterpret this, you f*cking

- Get the f*ck off her.

And you!

This is what you f*cking wanted from me,

isn't it?

Is for me to lose my f*cking sh*t.

Yes. Yes.

Remind you who runs this joint, okay?

So unless you're here

to deliver batteries,

- you better calm the f*ck down, Sas!

- I don't give a f*ck!

I don't want your f*cking

deal any more, Phoebe!

He was still f*cking working here.

Doesn't anybody care?

Did you really think I was going to let

some Gordon Gekko scholarship scab

blackmail me forever?

I'm f*cking done.

You're all right. You're all right.

You all right?

Mm-hmm.

How many more do you need?

Two.

You can't be demerius.

Bitch gotta get got.